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Jin Ling knows love.
His earliest memory is of his parents baking cookies one afternoon with Jin Ling helping. That means he gets to stir things, his tiny hand enveloped in his father’s larger one. It means he gets to taste-test the fruit fillings his mother makes. It means he can put sprinkles on the sweet glaze after baking. It means he can playfully smear streaks of flour and jam on his parents’ laughing faces. Jin Ling squeals with delight when they put a tiny dollop of cream on his nose in return.
He loves his parents very much.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling is his grandmother’s only grandchild, and she denies him nothing. She takes him to the playground, gives him ice cream and candy, buys him any toy he wants for his birthday, and pinches his cheeks until they’re pink. She comforts him when he scrapes his knee, cuddles him when he has a nightmare, and tells him wonderful stories about heroes and monsters, brave kings and terrifying warlords, beautiful maidens and powerful dragons. Jin Ling feels like a prince with his grandmother and loves her very much.
Jin Ling isn’t nearly as good at telling stories, but he does his best. He’s no hero, king, or dragon; he’s just little Jin Ling. He proudly tells his grandmother about beating his father during their wrestling game or helping his mother choose the prettiest flowers from the garden to decorate the house with. His grandmother always listens intently with a smile on her face. She praises Jin Ling for every little accomplishment, and he always feels like he’s being good and sweet and a big boy after seeing her.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling doesn’t understand why his Uncle Meng’s name is “Meng” rather than “Jin”, as he is Jin Ling’s father’s brother. The grown-ups don’t explain it to him. They say that Jin Ling only has to remember that Uncle Meng is his uncle and loves him very much. Jin Ling is still confused, but the instructions are simple, and he trusts his parents, so he does as they say.
Uncle Meng works with Jin Ling’s father, and sometimes they will take Jin Ling to the office for a little while. Jin Ling likes these outings very much; the men ruffle his hair, and the ladies tell him what a sweet and big and handsome boy he is. They also pinch his cheeks, which he doesn’t like as much, but he knows they are being nice, so he doesn’t say anything.
There’s a single picture on Jin Ling’s father’s desk, of Jin Ling with his mother. It’s in a place where his father can always see it well, and it makes Jin Ling smile to see it.
Uncle Meng has three pictures in his office, and Jin Ling is in all of them: there’s one of his uncle holding him as a baby, one of a little Jin Ling with a stuffed animal his uncle gave him, and one of a big Jin Ling riding his bike for the first time.
Jin Ling loves Uncle Meng very much.
-o-o-o-
Uncle Jiang lives in a different city, but Jin Ling sees him often. Either his uncle comes to visit, or Jin Ling stays with him for a day or two. They go to the park or the zoo together, and Uncle Jiang gives Jin Ling his first swimming lessons. When Jin Ling starts his first official swimming lesson, he’s better than all the other kids. His grandmother is very proud of him.
Uncle Jiang tells Jin Ling stories before bed. They are very fun stories. They’re about two young brothers who go on countless adventures together. Sometimes they are pirates, astronauts, or firefighters; other times they are ghost hunters, superheroes, or cultivators. Jin Ling always gives his uncle’s stories his full attention.
“I wish I had a brother,” Jin Ling tells his uncle one evening. He sighs. “It sounds like so much fun.”
His uncle strokes his cheek and presses a kiss to his forehead. His eyes seem a little bit sad.
“Brothers can be lots of fun,” he agrees before Jin Ling can ask about it. “But sometimes they fight, and sometimes they make each other sad. Just like friends do.” He tucks Jin Ling in and switches on the night light. Jin Ling wants to say he’s a big kid now and doesn’t need the light anymore.
“Or would you like to try sleeping without the light?” Uncle Jiang asks him, because he has superpowers and can read minds. Jin Ling has asked, but his uncle won’t tell him how he does it.
Jin Ling holds his stuffed dog a little tighter. He’s a big kid.
But he’s also smart, and smart big kids are scared of Mr. Clown.
Jin Ling shakes his head, and his uncle simply nods.
“A cousin would be nice too, if I can’t have a brother,” Jin Ling says with a pointed look at his uncle.
Uncle Jiang snorts. He cups Jin Ling’s cheeks in his big, warm hands and looks him in the eye with the kind of smile that makes Jin Ling feel warm and fuzzy and safe.
“No cousin of yours can ever be as cute as you,” Uncle Jiang tells him. “Besides, now you don’t have to share me. Isn’t that much nicer?”
Jin Ling considers that.
“I think so,” he says seriously. Then he yawns, earning him another kiss on the forehead.
“Sweet dreams, A-Ling,” his uncle whispers. Jin Ling is asleep before he leaves the room.
Jin Ling loves Uncle Jiang very much.
-o-o-o-
At first, Jin Ling is a bit confused about his Uncle Wei. His family tells him that Uncle Wei loves him very much, but if that’s true, then why doesn’t he ever come visit? Even if he lives far away, can’t he at least come over for the Lunar New Year or Jin Ling’s birthday? Jin Ling doesn’t mind if his uncle is poor and can’t give him nice toys or red envelopes; he just really wants to meet his uncle who loves him so much. His father will help if his uncle wants to fly home; Jin Ling is sure of it.
Jin Ling’s mother looks sad when she explains that Uncle Wei is too far away even for airplanes. He’s gone so far away that he can’t come back anymore. She calls it “death” and “dying”, but Jin Ling doesn’t understand what that means.
“But he left this for you to remember him by,” his mother tells him, and she gives Jin Ling a string of beads. He thinks he recognises it but can’t remember where he’s seen it before.
“This was a present from your Uncle Wei,” his mother explains. “He made these himself, just for you. They’re for protection. I put them in your bed when you were a baby.”
Jin Ling absentmindedly traces the symbols on the beads.
“Why did Uncle Wei go so far away?” he asks. “Can I talk to him on the phone?”
Jin Ling is still looking at the beads, so he never learns that his mother’s eyes fill with tears when he says that.
“I’m afraid not, love,” his mother answers eventually. Her voice sounds a little strange. Jin Ling looks up and sees that her eyes look a little pink. But his mother is smiling, so she must be okay.
“Your uncle didn’t mean to leave us,” she assures him. “Sometimes people die when they shouldn’t, and your uncle was one of those people. It’s not his fault; these things just happen sometimes.”
Jin Ling frowns.
“That’s stupid,” he declares.
His mother laughs softly. “Yes,” she agrees with a nod. “That’s very stupid. And I promise you that your Uncle Wei thinks so too.”
“Could we write him a letter?” Jin Ling suggests. “We can even send a map, so he can find his way back here.”
His mother then puts her hands under his armpits and lifts him onto her lap to hug him. Jin Ling hugs her back. He still doesn’t understand why his uncle can’t come back, but he thinks it makes his mother sad, and hugging her always makes her happy. Jin Ling holds his mother a little tighter. She’s rocking from side to side and back and forth, gently and steadily, almost as if trying to rock him to sleep. Jin Ling blinks furiously.
He’s a big boy and will not fall asleep like this.
“People who die go to a different place,” his mother explains softly. “They can’t come back to us, and we can’t visit them. We can’t talk to each other, hear each other, or touch each other. We can’t make phone calls or send letters. We can only find a temple, pray, and hope they will hear us that way.”
Jin Ling considers that.
“Mama? I’m sad,” he tells his mother.
She rubs his back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says. “I’m sad, too.” Jin Ling immediately starts rubbing his mother’s back, and he thinks he hears something like a laugh.
Jin Ling’s mother is the prettiest and nicest and smartest mother in the whole world. If it makes her so sad that Uncle Wei is now in the death place, then she must have loved him very much.
Jin Ling decides that’s good enough for him to love his uncle too.
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-
Jin Ling knows gratitude.
On his first day of school, Jin Ling is nervous. What if the other children don’t want to play with him? What if the teacher is mean? What if Jin Ling is stupid and doesn’t understand the lessons?
Jin Ling’s father listens to him very seriously.
“Would you like me to go into the classroom with you for a few minutes?” he asks when Jin Ling is done. “We could meet your teacher together. Would you like that?”
Jin Ling bites his lip and stomps his feet with frustration. He would like that, is the thing. He would like that very much, but then the other children will laugh at him and call him a baby. Jin Ling is not a baby; he’s a big kid!
“Babaaa…,” he whines with trembling lips.
His father looks at him for a long moment. Then he says: “Wait one moment. I’ll be right back.”
He returns with the string of protective beads that was a gift from Uncle Wei. Jin Ling sniffles as he watches his father attach the beads to his backpack.
“It’s so that your Uncle Wei can always keep an eye on you,” his father explains.
At once, Jin Ling feels much better. His father is so smart! Jin Ling never would have thought of this! Now he will be protected, and no one will know. No one will call him a baby now.
Jin Ling nods seriously.
“Thank you, Uncle!” he tells the beads. They’re not at a temple, so his uncle probably can’t hear him. However, his parents have taught Jin Ling to always say “Thank you” when someone does something for him. And Jin Ling is a good boy.
As it turns out, Jin Ling’s teacher is very nice, the other children are fun to play with, and Jin Ling gets excellent grades.
-o-o-o-
When Jin Ling is a little older, his mother makes a bracelet from the beads. The string holding them together originally has slowly worn out over time.
“Now your uncle can watch over you always,” Jin Ling’s mother tells him with a smile as she puts his new bracelet around his wrist. The beads make soft clicking noises when Jin Ling moves. He finds it soothing.
“Do you think they still protect me as a bracelet?” he asks curiously.
His mother caresses his cheek.
“I’m certain,” she says.
From that day forward, Jin Ling never leaves the house without his bracelet.
-o-o-o-
The first time Jin Ling asks his parents for a dog, he is five years old. They say no. Jin Ling is still too young, they say, to properly train and look after a dog. But perhaps when he’s older.
Six is older than five, so Jin Ling asks again. His parents smile at him and ruffle his hair, but their answer is the same. When they said “older”, they meant “quite a bit older”. Jin Ling is deeply disappointed and tells his uncles, hoping they will talk to his parents. His uncles always tell him that Jin Ling is so big and strong and good; surely they will agree that he’s big enough to have a dog.
They don’t.
Or do they?
When Jin Ling turns eight, Uncle Meng brings in a plastic crate with the smallest, fluffiest, cutest puppy Jin Ling has ever seen. Jin Ling has to press both his hands to his mouth to avoid screaming; he doesn’t want to scare the puppy. The animal is standing on its hind legs with its front paws against the side of the crate. Its tail is wagging, and its tongue hangs from its mouth as the puppy looks around curiously.
Jin Ling bounces over to his uncle and hugs him tight enough that his uncle winces a little. Jin Ling is a big boy, and big boys don’t squeal. He still can’t suppress the high-pitched noises that erupt from him at the sight of the fluffy creature that’s trying hard to wag its tail off.
“Thank you, Uncle!” Jin Ling says breathlessly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Happy birthday, A-Ling,” Uncle Meng tells him. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”
Jin Ling hears the expectation and warning in the statement, and he nods eagerly.
“I will!” he promises. Then he turns to his parents and hugs them, too.
“You have to train her yourself,” his father tells him kindly but sternly. “She’s your responsibility.”
Jin Ling squares his shoulders. “I understand,” he assures them both. Then he turns and finally, finally goes to meet his new puppy.
Jin Ling tips the crate with the utmost care to let the dog climb out. She does so without hesitation, all pale fluff and curious eyes. She’s happy to let Jin Ling pat her and sniffs his fingers when he holds them out to her.
Jin Ling is in love.
He names her Fairy.
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-
Jin Ling knows fear.
When Jin Ling is very young, his Uncle Jiang carries him when they go to the park. When he gets a little older, they hold hands the whole way. When Jin Ling gets a little older still and is finally allowed to cross the road by himself, his uncle teaches him a special song to help him remember when it’s safe to cross. Every time Jin Ling forgets to sing the song, he has to hold his uncle’s hand again for the next two trips.
Jin Ling forgets only once.
One day, while taking a walk, Jin Ling and Uncle Jiang have to cross an alleyway. Jin Ling thinks it’s a little bit stupid to sing the crossing song when there is no traffic, but his uncle has been very clear that there are no exceptions, so Jin Ling sings.
“One, two, three, four, I’m not little anymore,” he starts. His uncle is two grown-up steps behind him with his hands in his pockets.
“Five, six, seven, eight, walk fast, walk straight,” Jin Ling continues. He listens carefully for any traffic noise but hears nothing.
“First look left and then look right, make sure there’s no car in sight,” Jin Ling finishes. That one’s easy: the alley isn’t big enough for cars. Nevertheless, he carefully looks to his left and right to make sure there is indeed no traffic coming their way. Once he’s ensured the coast is clear, Jin Ling crosses.
Jin Ling doesn’t understand for a long time what actually happens in that moment. The second he takes a step, he hears a scooter horn behind him. The next moment, his uncle grabs him, clutches him to his chest, and squeezes so hard it hurts.
Startled, Jin Ling tries to pull away, but Uncle Jiang only holds him tighter, squeezing the air from his lungs. It’s then that Jin Ling realises the man is crying. They’re loud, harsh sobs; there’s something terrified and hysterical about them. Uncle Jiang is shaking from head to toe, and Jin Ling pushes against his chest to get his attention.
“Uncle?” he tries. He has to shout. “Uncle!”
When his uncle doesn’t react, Jin Ling gets scared. He’s only ever seen Uncle Jiang as this big, strong, fearless man, someone who loves his family deeply and will do anything to anyone for them. To see that man on his knees, crying and unresponsive, is something Jin Ling can’t quite process.
Jin Ling is only little, and he’s scared.
He cries.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling’s mother calls it a panic attack. She explains that it can happen when someone is suddenly very afraid of something and can’t calm down. She also explains that Uncle Jiang never meant for any of this to happen and feels terrible for scaring Jin Ling.
“Is Uncle Jiang scared of scooters?” Jin Ling asks. He’s lying down with his head in his mother’s lap, and she’s carding her delicate fingers through his hair. Jin Ling feels very safe.
His mother doesn’t answer immediately. When she does, her voice is sad.
“It’s not scooters,” she tells Jin Ling. “It’s traffic accidents.”
“Why?” Jin Ling asks when she doesn’t explain further.
A few long moments pass. Jin Ling snuggles closer when his mother kisses her fingertips and presses them to his cheek.
“I’ve told you that your Uncle Wei died when you were a baby,” his mother says eventually. “It was dark already; he had to work late on the day of your one-month celebration.” She caresses his cheek. “He was very excited about your party, so he was in a hurry to get here. He had to cross a busy street. What do we do before we cross a busy street?”
“Wait for the green light, look left, look right, walk fast, walk straight, but only if no cars are coming,” Jin Ling counts on his fingers. It earns him two more kisses.
“Perfect, my love,” his mother praises. “Your uncle did exactly that. However, one driver didn’t stop at the red car light. The car hit your uncle, and that’s when your uncle died.”
“Oh,” Jin Ling says quietly. “Did that hurt?”
Another kiss.
“When I asked the doctor, he told me that your uncle never felt anything,” his mother assures him. Her voice sounds a little strange.
“Did the man in the car go to the death place too?” Jin Ling wonders. He’s feeling many strange things, and he’s glad he’s lying down.
“No, love, he didn’t get hurt at all,” his mother tells him. “He wrote us a letter to tell us how sorry he was, and then he went to prison.”
Jin Ling considers that.
“Because he is a bad person,” he concludes. “Prison is for bad people.”
“Prison is for people who did bad things,” his mother gently corrects them. “This man should have stopped at the red light but didn’t. It’s his fault that your uncle died, so he had to go to prison as punishment. He did a bad thing; I don’t know if he is also a bad person.”
“Bad people do bad things,” Jin Ling insists.
“They do,” his mother agrees. “And sometimes they do good things. And sometimes good people do bad things. The law doesn’t decide who is bad, but who did bad.”
Jin Ling’s head feels full.
“I don’t get it,” he pouts. Then he thinks of Uncle Jiang again.
“Is Uncle Jiang scared a car will hit him and make him go to the death place too?” he asks. He’d understand that, he thinks. He doesn’t want to go to the death place either. It would be nice to meet Uncle Wei, but Jin Ling would rather stay with his parents and other uncles.
To Jin Ling’s surprise, his mother answers: “No.”
He frowns. “No?”
“No,” his mother confirms. “Uncle Jiang is afraid that a car will hit you.”
Jin Ling promptly bursts into tears. His mother gathers him in her arms and rocks him until he slowly calms down. Jin Ling isn’t sure he can explain why he’s crying; he’s feeling a lot. The feelings are big, but he is only small. Still, Jin Ling feels it’s important to communicate one very important thing to his mother.
“I don’t want to go to the death place!” he cries. “I want to stay with Mama and Baba!”
“Mama and Baba will do anything to keep you with us, sweetheart,” his mother promises in between his slowly quieting sobs. “And so will Uncle Jiang.”
“I don’t want you or Uncle Jiang to go either!” Jin Ling stresses. The fabric of his mother’s skirt is soaked and sticks to his cheek. He turns to press his whole face into his mother’s leg. She lets him for a moment before gently rolling him face-up again.
“My head hurts,” Jin Ling hiccups. “My head hurts, and I’m upset, and I want a hug.”
“I’ll get you some juice in a minute,” his mother promises him. “And then we’ll go do something fun. But first, I’m going to give you a hug. Is that okay?”
Jin Ling nods. He feels sluggish as his mother helps him sit up in her lap, and then he melts into her as she wraps her arms around him. She’s soft and warm and smells nice. They sit like that for a long time.
-o-o-o-
The next time Jin Ling sees Uncle Jiang, his uncle looks very serious. He also doesn’t hug Jin Ling, and for a moment, Jin Ling is afraid he’s been bad.
“I’m sorry, Uncle,” he says immediately. “Do you want to hold hands again when we cross the street?”
Uncle Jiang makes a strange noise before he kneels in front of Jin Ling and grabs his hands.
“You have done nothing wrong, A-Ling!” Uncle Jiang tells him in a tone that allows no argument. “Don’t you apologise to me!”
Jin Ling startles.
“But you haven’t given me a hug,” he says in slight confusion. “I thought I was bad.”
“Oh, A-Ling,” his mother says as she kneels beside them. Like this, Jin Ling is almost as tall as them. “You have been a very good boy. Uncle Jiang has just been feeling bad for scaring you last time.”
“I wasn’t sure you would want a hug from me,” Uncle Jiang admits. “I scared you, and I held you too tightly. That was bad of me, and I should not have done that. Uncle is very sorry.”
Jin Ling gasps in horror.
“Uncle didn’t do a bad thing!” he says. He nervously looks at his mother and then back at his uncle. “Mama says people who do bad things go to prison, but I don’t want Uncle to go to prison!”
Surprisingly, that makes his mother laugh.
“A-Ling, my sweet boy, I promise you that your uncle will not go to prison,” she assures him as she pulls him into a hug. “What Uncle Jiang did wasn’t nearly bad enough to go to prison. He’s quite safe.”
“Very safe,” Uncle Jiang confirms with something like a smile. “What I did was bad to you, though. Do you think you can forgive Uncle?”
Forgive? That’s a word Jin Ling knows; Uncle Meng explained it to him. It’s when someone has done something bad to you and says sorry, and then you decide not to be angry about it anymore. Jin Ling wasn’t angry at Uncle Jiang to begin with, so that’s very easy.
Jin Ling nods. Then he lets go of his Uncle’s hands and walks straight into his open arms for that hug.
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-
Jin Ling knows loss.
It takes him a few years to understand it, though.
Some losses Jin Ling doesn’t even know he suffered until someone tells him about them. His mother’s parents died before he was born, and they didn’t even know he existed when they died. There are pictures of them around the house, and Jin Ling hears stories about them from his mother and Uncle Jiang. In most of the photographs, his grandmother doesn’t smile. She looks pretty, though, and a little bit scary sometimes. To a young Jin Ling, she looks like a queen. To an older Jin Ling, more like an empress.
His grandfather does smile in most of the pictures. He has a kind face and broad shoulders. In some photos, he is carrying a little Uncle Jiang, and there’s even one of him carrying Jin Ling’s mother as a baby. To Jin Ling, he looks like a safe place.
His other grandfather does not.
Jin Ling’s paternal grandfather dies when Jin Ling is two years old, so he doesn’t remember anything about the man. His parents only have two pictures of the man: one with his wife and Jin Ling’s father when the latter graduated from university, and one with a little Jin Ling on his knee. For reasons Jin Ling can’t put his finger on, the man looks a bit… off.
Jin Ling asks the grown-ups in his life why there aren’t any more pictures of his grandfather. His grandmother doesn’t seem to have any at all.
“Your grandfather didn’t like pictures much,” his parents tell him.
“Good question. I’ve never asked,” Uncle Jiang answers.
“I’ve heard a story that the spirits can visit us if we have their pictures,” his grandmother explains. Jin Ling somehow doesn’t believe her. “I don’t want to disturb his rest, so I have no pictures of him.”
“Your grandfather often didn’t look good in pictures,” Uncle Meng tells him.
By contrast, there are many pictures of Uncle Wei, even though Jin Ling’s mother keeps most of them in a box in her bedroom closet. She takes Jin Ling to look at them sometimes and to tell stories about his uncle.
Uncle Wei smiles or laughs in almost every picture, Jin Ling notes early on. Even the ones (because there are several) where he has one of his limbs in a cast. There are pictures of Uncle Wei with Uncle Jiang and Jin Ling’s mother, starting in childhood. There are pictures of Uncle Wei holding a tiny baby Jin Ling, beaming at the camera with tears rolling down his cheeks. There are pictures of Uncle Wei in his school uniform, making funny faces, one of him being chased by pigeons, one of him being chased by a swan, and a whole collection of him at various activities. Pictures of a man Jin Ling can’t remember, but who clearly loved his family – clearly loved him – and was loved just as much in return.
The first time Jin Ling can remember his mother showing him these pictures, he soon turns to her and says: “Mama, I’m sad. Can I go play now?” And his mother gives him a hug before sending him on his way.
After a while, the sadness starts to feel different, and he asks instead: “Mama, I miss Uncle. Can I have a hug?” And his mother gives him a hug before they look at more pictures.
When Jin Ling is older still and better understands how much his mother misses his uncle, he says to her: “Mom, you look sad. Do you want a hug?” And she does, and she laughs, and she tells him she loves him.
-o-o-o-
The first loss Jin Ling suffers that he can remember is his paternal grandmother. One day, while eight-year-old Jin Ling is at school, his grandmother takes a wrong step on the escalator at the mall. She falls to the bottom, and an ambulance is called. Sadly, she is very badly hurt, Jin Ling’s mother explains to him when she picks him up. She probably won’t wake up anymore. The doctors have made sure she’s not in any pain, but it’s time for them to say goodbye to her.
It’s the first time Jin Ling sees his father cry. Uncle Meng joins them at the hospital and holds Jin Ling’s hand as they stand by Grandmother’s bed. Jin Ling’s parents are on the other side, his father holding Grandmother’s still hand in both of his, and Jin Ling’s mother standing right behind him, gently rubbing his shoulders. No one says anything, and the only sound is the steady beep-beep of the machine next to Jin Ling. He thinks he knows what it’s for and what the lines and numbers mean, but his head feels like a carousel. Thoughts are flitting through his mind, but he can’t focus on one long enough to understand it before the next one takes its place. It’s very disorienting.
Jin Ling tugs on Uncle Meng’s hand.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks quietly.
Uncle Meng nods. “Of course, A-Ling. Let’s step outside for a moment, okay?”
Jin Ling nods.
In the hallway – where it’s strangely quiet – they sit down on slightly uncomfortable chairs. Jin Ling takes a moment before he speaks.
“Mom said that Grandmother won’t wake up anymore,” he tells Uncle Meng. “That means she’s going to die, right?”
Uncle Meng nods. He always looks very calm, and he does now, too. He just looks at Jin Ling with a patient look in his kind eyes and a neutral smile.
Jin Ling nods too. Then he bites his lip.
“I don’t think I’m sad,” he admits. “Is that bad? I think it’s bad.”
“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Uncle Meng says. “I think you might not be sad yet. This is all new to you, and I’m sure you’re feeling many things right now.” Jin Ling nods again. “Give yourself some time. There are no rules about being sad.”
That’s a relief. Somewhat.
“Dad is crying,” Jin Ling says next. He’s not sure what he means to say by that, but it feels important.
“He loves his mother very much, and her death is unexpected,” is Uncle Meng’s reaction. “He will miss her, and he might feel like he’s not getting the chance to say goodbye to her properly.”
Jin Ling frowns.
“What does that mean?” he asks.
“Your grandmother won’t wake up anymore,” his uncle explains patiently. “We can still talk to her, but she can’t talk to us anymore. Maybe there are things your father would like to hear from her before her passing, but she can no longer say those things.”
“Hmm.” That makes sense.
“Does it bother you to see your father cry?” Uncle Meng asks. His voice and face are sympathetic, and he wraps an arm around Jin Ling’s shoulders. Jin Ling gratefully leans against his side.
“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I’ve never seen him cry before. I don’t know what to do.”
“No one expects you to help him stop crying, A-Ling,” Uncle Meng assures him. “Your father is very sad right now; it’s normal for him to cry. The best thing we can do for him is to be nice to him and to love him. I think he will feel a little bit better already if you give him a hug later.”
He gently squeezes Jin Ling.
“No one is expecting you to be a grown-up,” he says more slowly, as if trying to make sure that Jin Ling hears him clearly. “It’s okay if you are suddenly sad and want to cry later. Your father is still your father and will still want to ensure you are okay.”
Jin Ling’s throat starts to feel thick, and he has to swallow a few times before he feels like he can talk again. He feels tears pushing against his eyes, and he wipes at them furiously to try and get rid of them. Uncle Meng makes no comment.
“Uncle Wei is dead too,” Jin Ling says.
“Mhm.”
“Everyone dies, right?” Jin Ling plays with the hem of his sweater. His head is still a mess.
“Eventually, yes,” Uncle Meng confirms. “Most people hope it takes a long time, but everything that lives will, one day, die.”
Jin Ling snuggles a little closer.
“Uncle Wei was pretty young, right?” he asks. His uncle’s arm is warm, heavy and safe.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Do you miss him?” Jin Ling knows his uncles knew each other, but he’s never thought about how well.
“I do,” comes the answer. Jin Ling tilts his head to look at his uncle’s face. Uncle Meng is looking down and catches his eye. He smiles.
“He was very clever,” Uncle Meng tells Jin Ling. “It was incredibly difficult at times to fool him. I miss that kind of competition. He was interesting.”
“Uncle Jiang is also clever,” Jin Ling argues. “I think he’s interesting too.”
Uncle Meng’s face changes almost imperceptibly. He’s still smiling, but it looks ever so slightly different.
“He is,” he agrees.
“I hope we will all live a very long time,” Jin Ling tells him. “You and Uncle Jiang and my parents. And me.”
Uncle Meng’s face changes again, and now his smile is warm.
“I hope so too, A-Ling.” He presses a kiss to A-Ling’s forehead. “Don’t you worry. You are still young, healthy, and strong; I’m sure we’ll all be together for a long time.”
Jin Ling feels a sudden surge of something hot and cold and terrifying, and he turns to bury his face into his uncle’s expensive shirt. Uncle Meng gently strokes his head as he cries. Jin Ling isn’t even sure why he’s crying, but Uncle Meng doesn’t seem to care.
Jin Ling has stopped crying – but is still sniffling – when his mother opens the door to Grandmother’s room.
“Oh, my darling,” she sighs when she sees Jin Ling’s red face and puffy eyes. She kneels in front of him and strokes his cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. This isn’t how any of this was supposed to go.”
Jin Ling nods as well as he can with his head against his uncle’s chest.
“We’re about to say our goodbyes to Grandmother,” his mother tells him. “Your father and I understand if you don’t want to go in; we know it’s scary. But you must do it anyway. We all must pay our respects.”
Jin Ling sits up. It is scary, but he loves his grandmother very much. He knows she also loves him back, and he doesn’t want to be unfilial by being difficult.
“I’m scared,” he tells his mother. “Is it okay if I hold Uncle Meng’s hand?”
“Of course,” his mother and uncle say at once.
They go back into the room together. Jin Ling’s father hasn’t moved. Jin Ling goes to stand next to him, his hand in his uncle’s bigger one, and looks at his uncle with uncertainty.
“I’m not sure what I should say,” he admits in a whisper. “There is so much.”
“Good question,” his uncle agrees. “What is the most important thing you want to tell her? What is the one thing you want Grandmother to know before she passes?”
Jin Ling considers that very carefully. He looks at his grandmother, pale and still in the hospital bed. He looks at his mother, who smiles at him sadly. And he looks at his father, who now looks back at him and gives him the tiniest of smiles.
“Can I give Grandmother a kiss?” Jin Ling asks his mother.
“Of course, my love,” she says. “Just be careful with the wires.”
Jin Ling is cautious as he moves closer – still holding Uncle Meng’s hand – and presses his lips to his grandmother’s still-warm cheek.
“Please don’t worry about us, Grandmother,” he tells her. “A-Ling will be very good. I will study hard and go to a good school. I will respect my parents and my teachers. And… and I will help Mom take care of Dad after you’re gone, so… so you don’t have to worry about him!”
Jin Ling rubs his eyes as his throat suddenly squeezes shut again. He takes a shuddering breath. Uncle Meng gently rubs the back of Jin Ling’s hand with his thumb.
“I love you very much, Grandmother,” Jin Ling blubbers. Then he straightens, lets go of his uncle’s hand, and bows. “Thank you very much for everything you’ve done for us.”
Then he can’t hold it any longer and starts crying again. His father turns him so they’re facing each other and pulls him into a hug. Jin Ling wraps his arms around his father’s neck and cries.
“That was very good of you, A-Ling,” his father praises softly. “That was very, very good.”
“Come, A-Ling,” Uncle Meng says after a few minutes when the worst of it has passed. “Let’s go back outside for a little while, shall we? There’s a good boy.”
Jin Ling is still crying in small, hitching sobs as his uncle leads him back into the hallway and onto a chair.
“I’m sad,” Jin Ling tells him, though it’s somewhat of a relief to know he won’t be the bad grandson who didn’t cry when his grandmother died.
“It’s very sad,” Uncle Meng agrees. “But you did well, A-Ling. I’m sure your grandmother will be able to rest peacefully because of what you said.”
Jin Ling sniffs. “You really think so?”
Uncle Meng nods. “I’m sure.”
“Do you think she heard me?” Jin Ling wants to know.
Uncle Meng’s face changes again to the strange smile.
“I’m sure,” he says again. They hug until Jin Ling’s parents come out of the room, and then he hugs them, too.
-o-o-o-
After his grandmother’s death, Jin Ling starts to understand loss. He realises that it’s always been a part of his life somehow. He never knew most of his grandparents, and his family is still mourning his late Uncle Wei. Jin Ling didn’t see it before, all the ways in which his absence is felt.
Jin Ling realises that Uncle Jiang’s bedtime stories weren’t just about any two brothers; they were about Uncle Wei and himself. And while Jin Ling’s mother has many pictures of Uncle Wei around the house – besides the ones stored in her closet – there are none in Uncle Jiang’s house.
“Uncle Jiang misses Uncle Wei very much,” his mother explains when he asks her about it. “Seeing his picture hurts.”
Then there is Jin Ling’s bracelet, which he never leaves the house without. Its beads were carved by Uncle Wei himself, and the bracelet is one of Jin Ling’s most prized possessions. He thinks about his uncle every time he looks at it.
After his grandmother’s death, Jin Ling starts to understand that Uncle Wei has always been a part of his life by not being there anymore.
-o-o-o-
When Jin Ling is young, he makes a friend, a boy named Wen Yuan. A-Yuan lost his parents when he was a baby and is being raised by his older cousins, Uncle and Auntie Wen. Uncle Wen sometimes brings A-Yuan to Jin Ling’s house so the boys can play together, and Jin Ling and A-Yuan become fast friends.
As it turns out, A-Yuan used to know Uncle Wei. Uncle Wei used to babysit him, and A-Yuan still remembers him. When he hears that Jin Ling has no memories of the man whatsoever, A-Yuan takes it upon himself to tell as many stories as he can and share all the memories he has. He doesn’t care if he has to tell the same story a hundred times; he’s very patient with Jin Ling.
Jin Ling is a few years younger than A-Yuan but attends the same school. A-Yuan makes it clear to Jin Ling that he will always look after him and protect him from bullies.
“Brother Wei’s ghost won’t be able to rest if he has to worry about you,” A-Yuan explains to Jin Ling. “With me here to care for you, he can be at ease.”
Jin Ling smiles at him.
“Thank you!” he chirps, and they spend the rest of recess kicking a ball around.
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-
Jin Ling knows anger.
He has a bit of a temper. From a young age, whenever someone bullies him or insults him or someone he cares about, Jin Ling is quick to yell at them. In terms of protecting him, A-Yuan has to do next to nothing; Jin Ling is more than capable of scaring bullies away by himself.
His mother patiently explains to Jin Ling that it’s not nice to yell at people and that it’s much better to be kind. Always be kind. If he’s being bullied, Jin Ling should find an adult to report it, and the adult should get the bully to stop.
Jin Ling listens, says he understands, and is promptly called a crybaby and a tattletale the first and only time he follows his mother’s advice. Never again.
When Jin Ling is ten years old, a boy from his class snatches his bracelet from his hands when Jin Ling is playing with it in between lessons. The boy won’t give it back, no matter what Jin Ling says. When he threatens to take a pair of scissors to it, Jin Ling snaps.
Jin Ling yells a lot when he’s angry, but he never gets violent.
He gets violent now.
Of course, Jin Ling gets in trouble for hitting his classmate. The principal calls his father, and Jin Ling has to write a short essay about why he was wrong. He also has to apologise to his classmate.
Jin Ling refuses. As punishment for that, he is given detention at school and is grounded for two weeks by his parents. None of it matters.
Jin Ling still refuses.
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-
Jin Ling learns longing.
It’s not the feeling he had when he wished for a dog or a fancy new toy. Instead, it’s the feeling of wanting something very badly and knowing down to his bones that he will never have it. There’s a deep sadness to it that Jin Ling can’t communicate at a young age.
It starts when he is six and stays with Uncle Jiang for a few days. They’re in the master bedroom, with Jin Ling playing on the floor and his uncle going through his closet to look for clothes he doesn’t wear anymore. It’s raining outside, and every now and then, they hear the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. Jin Ling isn’t scared of thunder when he’s with Uncle Jiang; he knows he’s perfectly safe here.
Uncle Jiang wears a lot of dark blue and purple shirts to work, Jin Ling learns when he looks at the sorted piles of clothes on the bed. There are one or two white ones, too. Several fancy-looking jackets that are almost as big as Jin Ling, and one, curiously, made of black leather that he’s never seen his uncle wear before.
“That one’s pretty!” Jin Ling says as he points at the leather jacket. Uncle Jiang looks up and pauses for a moment.
“Yes, it is,” he agrees.
“I’ve never seen it before,” Jin Ling says as he gets closer to get a better look. There are some marks on it, like on Jin Ling’s trousers from all the running and playing he does.
“I don’t wear it,” Uncle Jiang tells him. When Jin Ling looks at him, his uncle is looking away.
“Why do you have it if you don’t wear it?” Jin Ling wonders. “Are you going to throw it away? Should I put it on that pile? Can I have it?”
“No.”
Jin Ling stills. His uncle has never yelled at him. He gets annoyed sometimes and even angry, but he always stays calm. Mostly.
He doesn’t sound calm now.
Jin Ling slowly steps away from the jacket. His uncle still has his back to him, and even Jin Ling, young though he is, can tell he’s tense.
“I’m sorry, Uncle,” he says. He bites his lip. “I won’t do it again.”
At that, his uncle sighs deeply, and he finally turns around. He suddenly looks tired.
“Come,” he says, holding his hand for Jin Ling to take. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound angry anymore.
Jin Ling takes his uncle’s hand, and they go to the living room, where his uncle motions for them to sit on the couch. The couch is big, shaped like an ‘L’, and Jin Ling has used it for many a pillow fort. Today, it’s a couch.
Uncle Jiang puts his head in his hands for a moment, rakes his fingers through his hair, and sighs again before looking at Jin Ling.
“That jacket belonged to your Uncle Wei,” he tells him. “I’m keeping it to remember him by.”
Jin Ling already knows that Uncle Jiang misses Uncle Wei very much. He reaches out and puts a hand on his uncle’s shoulder.
“We should not throw it away,” he states with the certainty of young children. “We should put it back in the closet so it doesn’t get put in the wrong pile. That would be bad.”
Finally, Uncle Jiang smiles. Just barely, but it’s there.
“That would be bad,” he agrees. “That’s a good idea, A-Ling. Let’s put it back.”
-o-o-o-
Sometimes, Uncle Jiang has to leave the house while Jin Ling is staying over. It’s always something about work, and when Jin Ling is little, his uncle takes him along. However, when Jin Ling is seven, on a day it’s raining badly, Uncle Jiang leaves him at home.
“I have to be someplace very close to here,” he explains to Jin Ling as he puts his shoes on. “I should be back in half an hour. You remember how to read that on a clock, right?”
Jin Ling looks at the clock. The big hand is pointed at the ‘1’.
Jin Ling nods. “It’s when the big hand points at the ‘7’,” he tells his uncle.
Uncle Jiang nods back. “What do you not touch?” he asks.
“Anything hot, sharp, or plugged into a socket.”
“What do you do if you’re in trouble?”
“Go to the neighbours.”
“What do you do if someone rings the bell or knocks on the door?”
“Nothing, because you have keys and can let yourself in.”
“And what do you do if something very bad happens and you must leave?”
“Go outside.”
“And what do you bring?”
“Just myself.”
Uncle Jiang smiles. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as his uncle closes the front door behind him, Jin Ling turns around and makes a beeline for the master bedroom. He opens the closet door, carefully pushes aside his uncle’s work jackets and shirts, and there it is.
The leather jacket.
Jin Ling has thought of it often since he first saw it. He reaches out and touches it now. If he climbs into the closet, he can reach it. The leather feels cool and soft, and Jin Ling dares to put his whole hand on it.
Uncle Wei used to wear this.
Jin Ling has found a few pictures in the collection in his mother’s closet in which Uncle Wei wears the jacket. It fit him perfectly. It’s somewhat strange to Jin Ling to touch something that used to belong to a dead man. A man who meant – and still means – so much to his family. Jin Ling wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, if the jacket will fit him one day. He thinks he would like that. He would like to have something that belonged to Uncle Wei, that was worn by him.
Jin Ling feels a little guilty when he thinks that. He already has his bracelet. It’s only fair that Uncle Jiang gets to keep the jacket. And yet, a part of him argues, the beads were always meant for him, whereas the jacket only ever belonged to Uncle Wei. It’s different.
(It’s still only fair that Uncle Jiang gets to keep it.)
Jin Ling knows he shouldn’t be nosing around in his uncle’s closet and will be in trouble if he gets caught. He climbs back out, carefully arranges the shirts and jackets as best he can to make them look undisturbed, and leaves the bedroom to watch TV.
-o-o-o-
From then on, Jin Ling often goes to take a look at the jacket whenever Uncle Jiang is out of the house. It happens only rarely. When Jin Ling is nine years old, though, he dares to go a step further. His uncle has been called about… something important. Jin Ling doesn’t understand it, but the man should be gone for at least an hour. So, Jin Ling grabs a chair from the living room, opens his uncle’s bedroom closet, and stands on the chair to move the shirts out of the way. Then, holding his breath, Jin Ling reaches inside and takes Uncle Wei’s leather jacket off its hanger.
It’s heavier than he thought.
Jin Ling carefully climbs down from the chair, goes to the high mirror in the corner, and slips the jacket on.
He looks ridiculous.
The jacket is much too big on him, of course. The material is soft but slightly stiff. It doesn’t move like Jin Ling’s clothes do, and it’s heavy on his narrow shoulders. Jin Ling is also disappointed to find that the jacket smells like leather.
Like it’s supposed to.
And yet, some part of Jin Ling had hoped to feel a connection of some kind, a link to his late Uncle Wei that has lasted to this day. An impression of his body shape, some lingering warmth, a hint of his scent, anything at all to prove that this jacket was once worn by a living, breathing person. Proof that Uncle Wei lived.
Inside the jacket’s sleeves, Jin Ling’s hands are balled into fists.
He puts everything back the way it was and pretends not to sulk the rest of the day.
-o-o-o-
When Jin Ling is thirteen, something happens. He doesn’t know what, has only the vaguest sense of when, and certainly doesn’t know why, but he can tell there’s something.
It starts when his mother goes to visit a friend at the hospital. When Jin Ling leaves for school that morning, nothing is amiss. His mother is making soup, gently humming to herself, and she smiles and waves him off as usual. When Jin Ling comes home, however, his mother seems… distracted, somewhat. She’s not upset and welcomes him home with the same enthusiasm as usual, but Jin Ling can tell something is off. He catches his mother staring off into the distance, fiddling with the hem of her sleeves, having to ask his father to repeat himself. It’s odd.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Jin Ling asks before he goes to bed. “Is your friend going to be alright?”
His mother gives him almost but not quite the same warm smile as usual.
“He’ll make a full recovery,” she tells him. “I hope to meet up with him when he is released from the hospital.”
“Cool.” Jin Ling frowns. “But Mom, are you okay?”
His mother nods. “Perfectly alright, darling.”
She even seems to be telling the truth.
-o-o-o-
Things seem to return to normal for a little while until his mother announces at breakfast that she will be gone for the evening.
“A friend has organised a small reunion,” she explains. “I know it’s sudden, but we’ve only just heard some people are in town, and they might not be for much longer.”
“Not a problem,” Jin Ling’s father assures her. “A-Ling and I will be just fine. Won’t we?”
“Sure.” Jin Ling shovels more food into his mouth. He’s so hungry these days. His mother says it’s normal at his age, but it’s annoying. “Have fun, Mom.”
His mother’s smile looks a bit tight, but Jin Ling doesn’t have time to dwell on that before it’s time to leave for school.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling doesn’t see his mother again until the following morning, and she looks exhausted. This is not a surprise in and of itself; Jin Ling knows that his mother’s health is more fragile than most, and she tires easily. This morning, however, her eyes look red and puffy, she’s pale, and she doesn’t have an appetite. At the same time, though, she seems content. Not happy, but at peace. Relaxed.
“Did something happen last night?” Jin Ling asks her. He hands her a cup of tea. “Are things okay with your friends?”
His mother takes a sip of tea and hums. “All is well,” she tells him. “It’s just that we hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Things got a bit emotional.”
“You look like you cried.”
Jin Ling hates to see his mother cry. He knows it’s normal to cry, but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting to see. She’s his mother. She should be happy, always.
“I did cry,” his mother confirms. “But… it was a good cry. It was needed. I felt better after.”
Jin Ling is big enough now that, with his mother seated, he has to bend down a little to wrap his arms around her and hug her. His mother hums happily and turns her head to press a kiss to his hair.
“I’m sorry to worry you, love,” she says apologetically. “Mama is okay. I promise.”
Jin Ling hugs her a little tighter anyway.
-o-o-o-
One day, when Jin Ling arrives at Uncle Jiang’s place to stay the weekend, there’s a cardboard box on the coffee table.
“What’s that?” Jin Ling asks as he takes his shoes off. It’s only the third time he’s made the journey to his uncle’s place by himself, and Fairy immediately makes her way to Uncle Jiang for pats and cuddles. She lets out a pleased rumble when he scratches behind her ears.
“I want to show you something,” Uncle Jiang tells him without answering the question. “Put your bag in the guest room first. I take it everything went fine?”
Jin Ling shrugs. “Of course. I’ve done this before, Uncle.”
“Attitude, A-Ling,” Uncle Jiang warns him, but his tone and body language are relaxed.
Once Jin Ling has put away his bag and Fairy has calmed down, her head resting on Uncle Jiang’s leg, Uncle opens the box.
Jin Ling gasps softly.
“I didn’t think you had any,” he says in wonder as he carefully takes a stack of photographs out of the box. Uncle Wei’s smiling face looks back at him. “I’ve never seen these before!”
“I’ve had them since his death,” Uncle Jiang admits. “This is the first time I’ve looked at them since.”
“Really? Why?” Jin Ling looks at his uncle just fast enough to catch that his eyes are wet. Then his uncle looks away for a second to rub at his eyes. He sniffs.
“After my brother died, I was in a bad place,” he says, looking at his hands. “I missed him so much; I was always so angry. It hurt to even think of him sometimes.” He snorts. “And of course, because it’s me, I didn’t talk about it enough. I eventually went to therapy to deal with it.” After a pause, he adds: “I’ve gone back recently, actually.”
That’s surprising.
“Why?”
Uncle Jiang shrugs slowly. “Some feelings don’t go away,” he explains. “Or sometimes they do, and then new feelings take their place, and you have to deal with those. Sometimes you can, sometimes you can’t. In this case, I couldn’t. So, I went back.”
Uncle Jiang doesn’t usually talk about feelings. Jin Ling has seen the state of his uncle’s punching bag; he can guess how his uncle usually deals with feelings.
“Does it help?” he asks. Uncle Jiang is still not looking at him.
Uncle Jiang chews his lip as he considers it. “Yes,” he says. “It takes time, and it’s not fun, but it does help. I’m better, now, than before. Healthier. Smarter about doing certain things.”
He turns around, and Jin Ling thinks he’s looking at the punching bag.
“And sometimes, I still do something stupid,” Uncle Jiang concludes, and Jin Ling remembers he sprained his wrist not too long ago.
The mood is heavy. Jin Ling looks down at the picture in his hand.
“How did this happen?” he asks, holding up the picture.
His uncle finally looks. It’s a photo of him and Uncle Wei making faces at the camera. Uncle Wei’s right arm is in a cast and covered in colourful scribbles. Uncle Jiang smiles.
“Skateboarding,” he says. “He’d just come up with a new trick, and he decided to try it out at the skatepark, on concrete. He overbalanced and fell over.” He takes the picture from Jin Ling. “You’re the same age he was then.”
Jin Ling has heard about Uncle Wei’s daredevil behaviour over the years, so none of this is surprising.
“Wow, he really did stuff like that a lot, didn’t he?” He looks at the next picture. “Oh, is this Auntie Luo?”
Auntie Luo is his father’s longtime – and best – friend, and Jin Ling has known her all his life. She would even babysit him every now and then, and most of the embarrassing stories Jin Ling knows about his father he heard from her.
In the picture, a teenaged Uncle Wei and who Jin Ling believes is Auntie Luo are smiling brightly at the camera. They are dressed up, and Uncle Wei has an arm around Auntie’s shoulders. Jin Ling had no idea they went back that far.
“There was a school dance, and she was your uncle’s date,” Uncle Jiang explains. “Middle school. They dated for three weeks after that.”
Jin Ling raises an eyebrow. “Three weeks?” He has to admit he’s disappointed. His uncle has always seemed like such an interesting guy to him, but he couldn’t keep a girlfriend for a month? This is middle school they’re talking about, not kindergarten.
“Apparently, kissing was a nightmare because of your uncle’s ungodly spice tolerance.”
Jin Ling snorts. His mother likes to make spicy food from time to time, and Jin Ling likes it a lot, but the one time she made him something with the kind of heat that Uncle Wei used to enjoy, Jin Ling cried like a baby.
On second thought, maybe that three-week relationship is actually impressive. Jin Ling looks at the next photo.
“Hey! That’s the jacket!” The picture is of an adult Uncle Wei wearing the same leather jacket that Jin Ling has secretly touched – and worn – when he wasn’t supposed to. He sincerely hopes Uncle Jiang never finds out.
In the photograph, Uncle Wei winks at him while striking a pose. He somehow manages to look both ridiculous and really cool. Jin Ling wonders how he did that.
“He’d only just bought it.” Uncle Jiang leans in closer until he’s almost looking over Jin Ling’s shoulder.
“It’s nice,” Jin Ling says. Then, genuinely: “I’m glad you’ve kept it.” Even though it didn’t fit Jin Ling at the time. It probably still doesn’t – Jin Ling is still growing – but maybe one day.
“How so?” Uncle Jiang asks.
Jin Ling shrugs. “Photos are nice and all, but the jacket was really his, wasn’t it? It’s more personal.” It’s not like Jin Ling’s bracelet, the beads worn smooth after all these years. And if Jin Ling has anything to say about it, he’ll wear them until the day he dies.
“Do you ever wear it?” he asks. He knows his uncle didn’t initially, but maybe he does now.
“It doesn’t fit me,” Uncle Jiang answers. Jin Ling can’t tell if his uncle feels sad about that. His voice gives nothing away.
“That’s too bad.” Jin Ling pauses. “Do you still miss him?”
It’s probably a stupid question. Jin Ling knows he misses Uncle Wei, and he hasn’t seen the man since he was a baby. But there’s missing someone, and then there’s missing someone to the point you need therapy.
“Every day.” Uncle Jiang sounds slightly strangled. Jin Ling leans into his side and takes out another picture.
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-
Jin Ling is fourteen years old, and for once, he can go straight home after school. No archery practice, no cram school, and no more gushing praise from his friends for the pretty transfer student in the class next door. Just Jin Ling and the mountain of maths problems his teacher assigned. Jin Ling sighs deeply when he gets to his front door. He’s having a day.
When he enters the house, it’s strangely quiet. Usually, Fairy would be running at him at full speed as soon as he opened the door, but his best friend is nowhere to be seen.
“Mom? I’m home!” he calls. “Did you see Fairy?”
He’s barely taken his shoes off when his mother comes running. His mother doesn’t run. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are sparkling, and she’s slightly out of breath when she reaches Jin Ling.
He’s never seen her like this.
“Welcome home, A-Ling!” She wraps her arms around him and laughs brightly. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
“You have?”
Jin Ling is confused. It’s not his birthday, nor a holiday, and he can’t remember his parents saying anything about today being special.
“We have guests,” his mother tells him when she lets go of him. “Leave your bag.” Then she takes his hand and all but drags him down the hallway.
“Mom, I have homework!” Jin Ling whines. He wants to curl up on his bed with Fairy, his headphones, and a comic book, but he has those stupid maths problems to solve first, so he’s not in the mood to meet whichever friend his mother has over for tea and pastries.
(On that note, Jin Ling would love to sneak some pastries into his room. For study purposes, of course.)
“I’ll write you a note for your teacher,” his mother promises him sunnily, which only confuses Jin Ling more.
“Can I at least say hello to Fairy first?” he grumbles. “I haven’t seen her yet.”
At this, his mother turns slightly apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says. “I’m afraid the person you’re about to meet is absolutely terrified of dogs, so we had to keep Fairy out of the way. Not to worry; we’ve put her in your room with some snacks, and when we last checked, she was sound asleep.”
Jin Ling pouts.
“Mom, do I have to?” he sighs. “I’ve had a really long day at school; can’t I just greet these people later? Please?”
“Out of the question.” His mother’s tone is still cheerful but also final. Jin Ling reluctantly accepts that there’s no getting out of this.
His mother takes him to the sitting room at the back of the house and opens the door more forcefully than necessary. Jin Ling has never seen her like this.
Inside are four men: Jin Ling’s father, who he expected to still be at the office; Uncle Jiang, which is just as unexpected; and two men he doesn’t recognise at all.
The first is tall, handsome, and pale, with a neutral expression and dressed in business-appropriate clothes. He looks to be of an age with Jin Ling’s parents, whereas the other appears to be in his late twenties. This man has long, somewhat unruly hair that he’s put in a ponytail, and he’s dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt. Curiously, the strangers are holding hands.
“Perhaps I should step out of the room,” the first man suggests with a questioning look at Jin Ling’s mother. “This is a family affair. I don’t wish to intrude.”
“You couldn’t possibly,” his mother tells him. “It’s only thanks to you that we’re even here today. Although I never want you to be uncomfortable, of course. Whatever you prefer is fine with me.”
The man looks at his companion. Boyfriend? But the younger man isn’t paying attention to the conversation; his eyes are on Jin Ling. They’re wet with tears, and he looks like he’s just been given the best birthday present ever.
And that present is Jin Ling.
Which is very, very weird.
“Ehm… Mom?” Jin Ling looks to his mother for help.
“Oh! Of course. A-Ling, this is Lan Zhan, a friend of mine. He’s the one I went to visit in the hospital last year, do you remember? Lan Zhan, this is my son, Jin Ling.”
His mother – thankfully – only rarely has to visit the hospital for any reason. And Jin Ling still doesn’t know why she started to act strange around that time.
Mr Lan releases his partner’s hand, gets up from his chair, and nods at Jin Ling. Jin Ling realises he’s been spacing out and is being rude. He quickly bows.
“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I hope you’re doing well.”
“Thank you,” Mr Lan replies politely, though Jin Ling can’t read his tone at all. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” He pauses as if to think, then adds: “Your family has told me good things about you.”
Jin Ling’s cheeks heat up, and he wrestles down the urge to blush at his own blushing.
Then the other man stands and gently pushes Mr Lan aside – Mr Lan goes without protest. The stranger still looks starry-eyed and looks Jin Ling up and down.
“You’ve grown so big,” he says with awe. He catches Jin Ling’s eyes. “And you look so confused.”
The man blinks.
“That actually makes perfect sense,” he adds like he’s just snapped out of whatever came over him. “Yeah. Sorry. My bad.” He smiles sheepishly and clears his throat. “You’ll want to sit down for this one.”
Jin Ling does, but he’s feeling a bit apprehensive about it. Thankfully, his mother comes to stand beside him. The stranger sits down next to him.
“We’re about to tell you something… rather unbelievable, I’ll admit,” the man starts. “But I promise you that it’s all true.”
Jin Ling looks at his mother. She nods. “It’s all true,” she echoes. “We’d never be so cruel as to make this up.”
That’s even more confusing.
The stranger clears his throat again, and Jin Ling returns his attention to him. The man looks him straight in the eye.
“About fourteen years ago, I got hit by a car and died.”
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling knows longing. For years, he’s been longing to know the man his family was robbed of, the uncle who loved him but whom he never got to know and love in return. He’s been longing for a connection that was severed, only mere threads preserved in the form of a red ribbon, a leather jacket, a bracelet. He’s longed for it with the knowledge he’ll never, ever have it.
And now that man – Wei Wuxian, Uncle Wei – is sitting right beside him.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling knows fear. Fear of losing what he has – what he loves – and the pain he would suffer as a result. Fear of his loved ones being in pain, panic, lost in their own head and terror.
Fear of being tricked and humiliated by someone he trusts.
The story his family tells him – his parents, his uncles (plural!) – sounds like a fairytale, a trick. Jin Ling waits for someone to lose their composure and admit it’s a joke, but no one does.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling knows gratitude.
When the story is finished – Uncle Wei has returned from the dead in another person’s body, which is why Jin Ling doesn’t recognise him – everyone is silent as Jin Ling processes everything he’s been told. No one rushes him for a reaction. Jin Ling appreciates that very much because this is a lot.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling knows anger.
“What the fuck?!" are the first words out of his mouth. He knows he’s not using his inside voice. The man who is and isn’t a stranger nods as if he expected that reaction. “That’s bullshit!”
“A-Ling, language,” Uncle Jiang warns, but his words have no heat.
Jin Ling ignores him. He shoots out of his chair and looks around. There’s very little space in the room, so he walks straight out the door. He hears someone calling behind him, but there’s too much white noise in his head to hear clearly.
Jin Ling is breathing fast, and his heart is pounding. He feels antsy, like he’s too big for his skin, and he’s shaking. This can’t be real. People don’t return from the dead. How could his family have been tricked so easily? How could they do this to him?
Jin Ling doesn’t realise he’s crying until he hears a sob and realises it’s coming from him. He angrily rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath.
And another.
And another.
Jin Ling goes straight up the stairs, two at a time, and to his room. He slams the door, which startles a sleeping Fairy awake. She yips, and Jin Ling immediately feels like an ass.
“Fuck!” he says with feeling. Then, at a whimpering Fairy: “Sorry, girl.” He goes to her, drops to his knees, and Fairy immediately bumps her head into his chest. She always does that when she notices he’s upset. She looks at him with intelligent eyes, her head slightly cocked to the side, and makes a noise that, from a human, would be inquisitive.
Jin Ling would swear she understands “human” sometimes.
“I’m having such a day,” Jin Ling tells her with a growl. He buries his fingers in Fairy’s thick, soft fur, and she makes a pleased noise when he scratches her behind her ears, briefly closing her eyes. When she opens them again, she leans into Jin Ling until he’s supporting her weight.
Despite the mess inside his head, Jin Ling huffs a laugh. His hands are still shaking, and his heart is still beating fast, but his breathing has slowed, and the tears have almost stopped.
He’s still angry.
There’s a knock on the door.
Jin Ling ignores it.
Another knock. “A-Ling, I know you’re in there.” It’s Uncle Jiang. Jin Ling still doesn’t respond.
Another knock. “A-Ling, if you think you can keep this up longer than I can, I’ll tell you right now that you’re wrong.”
The annoying thing is that he’s probably right. Jin Ling is stubborn as a mule, but so is his uncle, and he’s had more practice.
Jin Ling grunts. His uncle takes that as an invitation and enters the room, closing the door behind him. Still in his slacks and business-appropriate button-down, he sits on the floor next to Jin Ling. Jin Ling knows he’ll have dog hair all over his clothes in no time.
They say nothing for several minutes. Jin Ling continues to stroke Fairy’s back, and she rumbles to signal she’s pleased.
After a few minutes, Uncle Jiang breaks the silence.
“When your mother told me that A-Ying was still around as a ghost, my reaction was the same as yours,” he tells Jin Ling. It’s the first time Jin Ling has heard him call his brother that. “I thought Lan Zhan was trying to trick her to profit from her grief somehow. I don’t think I truly believed any of it until the night we went to find his ghost.”
Jin Ling doesn’t say anything.
“Today, when I realised that, yes, that really is my brother, do you know what I did?” Uncle Jiang continues.
Jin Ling remains silent.
“I yelled at him, called him a cockroach, and threatened to break his legs.”
Jin Ling scoffs at that. “That’s not a threat, Uncle.”
His uncle hums. “Isn’t it? You don’t think I’ll do it?”
“You only threaten to break someone’s legs when you love them,” Jin Ling points out. “It’s when you threaten to break something else that I get worried.”
Uncle Jiang considers that. “Really? Well, I guess that explains why he didn’t seem worried.”
Jin Ling doesn’t respond to that. Fairy crawls further into his lap and gently nudges his chin with her snout. Jin Ling kisses her head.
“We understand it’s a lot to take in,” Uncle Jiang tells him. “You need time to process this; we get that.”
Jin Ling nods.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jin Ling knows the offer is sincere, but he can’t help but notice that his uncle sounds a bit uncomfortable. Talking is not his thing.
To be honest, it’s not really Jin Ling’s thing either.
He decides to try it anyway.
“I’m angry,” he says. Uncle Jiang hums. “I keep waiting for someone to tell me this is a joke.”
“We wouldn’t do that to you,” Uncle Jiang promises. “But I understand what you’re saying.”
Jin Ling takes a shuddering breath.
“I’m scared,” he admits. His voice cracks, just a little. “I’m scared that it’s real, but I don’t get to keep it. And that makes me angry again because I want it to be real, and I don’t want it taken from me.”
Uncle Jiang holds out his arm but doesn’t touch him. He’s giving Jin Ling a choice, and Jin Ling is grateful for that.
He chooses to lean into his uncle’s side, Fairy still in his lap, and his uncle holds him close. Jin Ling can’t keep a few more tears from escaping. Fairy gets comfortable and relaxes with a contented rumble. Jin Ling rubs her belly, getting a few pleased grunts in return. Fairy raises a paw to give him better access, and he obliges.
Uncle Jiang snorts.
“That is one spoiled dog.” Strangely enough, it sounds like a compliment.
“I startled her when I slammed the door,” Jin Ling admits. “This is me making it up to her.”
His uncle pats his head. It feels like an apology.
“Do you want to come back downstairs?” he asks. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
Jin Ling doesn’t.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling knows loss.
It hurt when he lost his grandmother, but the pain dulled over time and eventually turned into a faint sorrow. Jin Ling still misses her, but he no longer really feels her absence.
The loss of Uncle Wei has never been like that.
The loss of Uncle Wei has always been different in the sense that it was always there, right in Jin Ling’s face. His absence was always obvious in a way the absence of his grandparents wasn’t. The bracelet that Jin Ling still wears every single day; the way his mother would sometimes look at his pictures with a look of deep love and sorrow; the black leather jacket that Uncle Jiang has kept in the back of his closet all these years; the photographs he couldn’t bear to look at.
The panic attack and therapy.
There’s always been a void in Jin Ling’s family’s lives, but now that void can be filled.
Jin Ling struggles with that, up in his room with a dog in his lap and his hands full of fluff.
Because how do you fill a void like that after so many years? Uncle Wei doesn’t even look the same anymore. How is Jin Ling supposed to act around him? Are they just going to let his uncle walk back into their lives like nothing happened?
What if that doesn’t work?
What if Uncle Wei no longer fits the void he left?
What if they lose him again?
Jin Ling knows loss. He does not know losing someone twice.
-o-o-o-
Jin Ling does, eventually, leave his room. He considers taking Fairy with him to feel safe but then remembers that Uncle Wei is scared of dogs. He reluctantly leaves her upstairs.
Jin Ling walks slowly, first down the stairs and then down the hallway to the sitting room. He finds it empty, but given the time, everyone’s probably in the dining room. It’s possible that Uncle Wei and Mr Lan have already left, he thinks, but Uncle Jiang never would without saying goodbye first.
Jin Ling isn’t sure how to face his parents, especially his mother. She was so happy earlier, perhaps happier than Jin Ling has ever seen her, and he knows he probably ruined that by storming out. He feels terrible about that.
He hears voices coming from the dining room, so he takes a deep breath and opens the door.
They’re having soup. His mother’s speciality, if Jin Ling’s nose is to be trusted. Jin Ling absentmindedly licks his lips, and his stomach growls faintly. He didn’t realise how hungry he is.
Uncle Wei and Mr Lan are still there.
Before Jin Ling can say anything, his mother is out of her chair and hurrying towards him. Jin Ling bites his lip and looks at his feet. He’s expecting some sort of reprimand. What he gets is a hug.
“A-Ling!” his mother exclaims. “How are you feeling?” She pulls back a little to have a good look at him. Upon seeing the worried look on her face, Jin Ling promptly starts crying again. She immediately pulls him back against her chest.
“My sweet boy,” she murmurs as she rocks them back and forth. “My dear, sweet boy. It’s okay.”
Jin Ling feels a large, warm hand on his head. When he looks up, it turns out to be his father’s. He, too, looks worried.
“We were about to bring you some food,” he says. “You must be hungry. Would you like to eat with us, or would you rather go back to your room?”
Jin Ling is fourteen. There’s no way he will say out loud that he wants to be close to his mother right now.
(He really, really wants to be close to his mother right now.)
“Here,” he says. He sniffs. His mother presses a kiss to his head. There’s the sound of chairs scraping across the floor. Jin Ling presses his face into his mother’s shoulder and just breathes for a minute. His mother smells of spices and flowers and mom. For maybe the first time that day, for that one minute, Jin Ling feels very safe and calm.
His parents lead him to the table. His uncles and Mr Lan are on one side of the table, and Jin Ling and his parents are on the other. There is one full bowl of soup across from Uncle Jiang, and Jin Ling suspects the men just changed seats to make it so. He doesn’t know whose idea that was, but he’s grateful. This whole situation is still a lot.
Jin Ling doesn’t look at anyone or speak to anyone. His head still feels full. Thankfully, no one tries to talk to him, though Uncle Jiang occasionally taps his leg with his foot under the table. It’s a signal they’ve developed over the years that means, “I know you need your space right now, but I’m still here when you need me”. Jin Ling feels calmer because of it.
When everyone is done eating, and the dishes have been cleared away, everyone is silent. Jin Ling looks down at the table and follows a whorl in the wood with his eyes. Part of him wants to flee back upstairs to snuggle with Fairy; another part still wants to be close to his mother. Under the circumstances, he knows he can’t have both, so he stays put.
The only sound is now the faint tick-tock coming from the clock in the hallway. Jin Ling focuses very hard on the whorl in the table.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“A-Ling?”
It’s spoken very softly, but it’s somehow still loud in the quiet room. Jin Ling swallows but then forces himself to look up. Everyone is looking at him, but Uncle Wei is the one who spoke. Jin Ling looks back at him and bites his lip. Funnily enough, Uncle Wei does the same.
“This is weird, isn’t it?” Uncle Wei says after a minute. His voice is kind, Jin Ling thinks. Uncle Wei briefly raps his fingers against the table before he laughs awkwardly.
“Guess we spooked you pretty bad,” he goes on. “I’m sorry about that.” Jin Ling believes him. “To tell you the truth, I fully expected to be punched sometime today. For a second there, I thought you’d be the one to do it.” He cocks his head. “Though, to be fair, Jiang Cheng did threaten to break my legs.”
“That’s because he loves you,” Jin Ling blurts out. He immediately snaps his mouth shut.
Uncle Wei laughs. “Oh, so you’ve noticed?” He sounds pleased. “Yeah, that’s true, but under the circumstances… well, as I said, I did expect to be punched.”
“I still might!” Jin Ling tells him, his temper flaring sluggishly from beneath the layers of emotional and mental exhaustion. “If you disappear again, I’ll kick your ass! Don’t you make my mother cry!”
The anger feels good. Familiar. It’s an old friend.
“A-Ling,” his mother says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. Don’t punch your uncle, Jin Ling hears.
Uncle Wei smiles at him. It looks a little sad. “You remind me so much of Jiang Cheng,” he says. “And you have your mother’s eyes. See, Jiang Cheng? Didn’t I tell you?”
The void is filling up, Jin Ling realises. It’s not like Uncle Wei never left, but he has already been given his own space to occupy. Jin Ling was afraid it would be weird, but it isn’t.
(Okay, it’s definitely weird, but more in a my-dead-uncle-is-no-longer-dead kind of way.)
Suddenly, Uncle Wei gasps. Jin Ling looks and notices he’s looking at Jin Ling’s wrist. Jin Ling looks down.
Oh. The bracelet.
“You got my gift.” Uncle Wei sounds like he’s feeling a lot of things at once. “You still have it.”
“The original string wore out years ago,” Jin Ling’s mother tells him. “I used a new one to make the beads into a bracelet for A-Ling.”
“I never see him without it,” his father adds.
Uncle Wei presses a hand to his mouth, tears shining in his eyes.
He looks overcome.
Feeling self-conscious, Jin Ling pulls his hand back under the table and into his lap, covering the bracelet with his other hand.
“Thank you for the gift, Uncle,” he mumbles. “I… I know you made it yourself, and… and I… ehm…”
He stutters, opens and closes his mouth a few times, and then gives up.
Uncle Wei nods. “You’re very welcome.” He sounds choked up. He wipes the tears from his eyes and sniffles.
“A-Ling?” he whispers, though it still seems loud in the quiet room. “A-Ling, it’s completely, totally okay to say no, but… may I hug you?”
His voice breaks on the last word, and he sounds – and looks; he’s trembling – like he’s about to fall apart. Jin Ling feels pressure building behind his eyes and knows his lips are wobbling.
It’s okay to say no.
He doesn’t want to say no.
Jin Ling pushes away from the table and pushes himself upright on shaky legs. He slowly walks around the table, his eyes never leaving his uncle’s. Uncle Wei looks like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing. When Jin Ling is finally in front of him, he nods.
“Okay.”
Uncle Wei has been very careful with him so far. He’s given Jin Ling space to process the story he’s been told and the feelings it has provoked. He’s been gentle and understanding, mindful of Jin Ling’s feelings and boundaries. As such, Jin Ling thinks his uncle meant to get up slowly and hug him carefully.
That’s not what happens.
Uncle Wei gets up quickly as though he’s suddenly afraid that Jin Ling will change his mind. He wraps his arms around Jin Ling and pulls him into a hug that says I missed you and thank you and a hundred other things Jin Ling can’t name right now. He wraps his arms around his uncle’s trembling frame and slowly, gradually, relaxes into the embrace.
-o-o-o-
Above all else, Jin Ling knows love.